Forensic Science: Crime on File #2: A Walk In The Park
“I wonder if the father of our country ever spent his own birthday the way we’re celebrating it, tramping through the snow in a park.”
Sara Hull laughed, her breath misting in the winter air. “You’ve go tot admit black branches and blue sky and white snow are beautiful,” she said. “I’m glad that for once you got a day off on the same day the library was closed, Bill.”
Around a bend in the park path a heavily bundled figure came rushing toward Bill and Sara. It was Clement Barber, owner of the town’s largest factory.
“Bill Tawson,” the man exclaimed. “What a break! I guess you have the day off, too, but I wish you’d come with me, just for friendship’s sake. I’m on my way to see my brother – you know, he lives in that apartment house overlooking the park. This morning – about half an hour ago – he called me and said he’d just received a threatening letter in the mail, and wanted to see me about it. Something about the action he’s trying to take in the town council on air pollution. I didn’t want to call the police until I’d found out what it was all about – but now that I’ve met you, Inspector – ”
Ten minutes later, admitted by the apartment superintendent after no one had answered Barber’s bell, Bill, Sara, and Clement were bending over the bleeding body of Robert Barber, who had been beaten repeatedly with a heavy brass bookend that lay beside him.
“But where’s the letter you say he got?” Bill asked, after phoning for an ambulance.
“The rat who did this must have taken it to cover his tracks!” Clement paced the floor, wringing his hands. “I should have come sooner – I didn’t realize –”
Sara stepped in front of him, looked him squarely in the face.
“It would have been hard to get back here much sooner,” she said. “Your factory has been cited for polluting the air, hasn’t it? An incident like this would be quite a warning for other members of the council, wouldn’t it? You see, Mr. Barber, your story can’t be true. Your brother didn’t call and say he’d just received a threatening letter.”
“I wonder if the father of our country ever spent his own birthday the way we’re celebrating it, tramping through the snow in a park.”
Sara Hull laughed, her breath misting in the winter air. “You’ve go tot admit black branches and blue sky and white snow are beautiful,” she said. “I’m glad that for once you got a day off on the same day the library was closed, Bill.”
Around a bend in the park path a heavily bundled figure came rushing toward Bill and Sara. It was Clement Barber, owner of the town’s largest factory.
“Bill Tawson,” the man exclaimed. “What a break! I guess you have the day off, too, but I wish you’d come with me, just for friendship’s sake. I’m on my way to see my brother – you know, he lives in that apartment house overlooking the park. This morning – about half an hour ago – he called me and said he’d just received a threatening letter in the mail, and wanted to see me about it. Something about the action he’s trying to take in the town council on air pollution. I didn’t want to call the police until I’d found out what it was all about – but now that I’ve met you, Inspector – ”
Ten minutes later, admitted by the apartment superintendent after no one had answered Barber’s bell, Bill, Sara, and Clement were bending over the bleeding body of Robert Barber, who had been beaten repeatedly with a heavy brass bookend that lay beside him.
“But where’s the letter you say he got?” Bill asked, after phoning for an ambulance.
“The rat who did this must have taken it to cover his tracks!” Clement paced the floor, wringing his hands. “I should have come sooner – I didn’t realize –”
Sara stepped in front of him, looked him squarely in the face.
“It would have been hard to get back here much sooner,” she said. “Your factory has been cited for polluting the air, hasn’t it? An incident like this would be quite a warning for other members of the council, wouldn’t it? You see, Mr. Barber, your story can’t be true. Your brother didn’t call and say he’d just received a threatening letter.”